


Not A Kind Man

by Pegasus_Eridana



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exhibitionism, Happy Ending, I'm fixing this dammit, M/M, Smut, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, they both live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:12:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barca is not a kind man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Kind Man

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO'S RE-WATCHING SPARTACUS AND HAS REDISCOVERED HER GREAT LOVE FOR BARCA AND PIETROS? 
> 
> Me. It's me. 
> 
> I was seized by the idea for this fic and it would not let me go until I had written it. 
> 
> Special thanks to Ismene_Jane for editing this despite the fact that she's never seen the show. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Barca is not a kind man.

While freedom might be his ultimate goal, he has to admit to himself that he _enjoys_ the roars of the crowd in the arena as he spills blood on the sands there. The spear he wields in his hands is like an extension of his arm, spinning and whirling and dealing death with every stroke. His roars as he plunges it deep into his opponent do not have to be counterfeited. When he screams - at his dying enemy, at the crowd, at the skies and the gods themselves - he _lives_ , with every fibre of his being.

Barca is not a kind man.

He only kept Auctus’ birds because they were the last tether he had to the man. They are filthy, noisy, always needing attention. Barca does not particularly care that they are living, breathing beings. All he knows is that Auctus loved them, and they seem to exert some kind of calming influence over Barca when he holds them between his hands. And they miss Auctus, too.

Before those birds, Barca wonders, did he ever touch something merely to provide it with protection and comfort? If he ever did, he can’t remember it now.

Barca is not a kind man.

Even with the closest of his brothers, he does not open up. He sees Gannicus’ longing glances towards Melitta, and Oenomaus’ grief when she dies, and says nothing. Years later he watches silently as Crixus risks all for Naevia, and loses her.

 He feels a certain sympathy for Spartacus as the Thracian’s wife is restored to him only in time to die in his arms, but he offers no word of comfort or support. That is not his way. The only way he knows how to cheer someone is by rough touch and crude joke. The only advice he gives is on how best to survive in the arena, and even then it is advice given more through blows and blood than words.

Barca is not a kind man.

When he comes upon the new ludus slave, Pietros, being cornered by Gnaeus, a look of revulsion and fear upon his young face, he does intervene, it is true. But, he persuades himself as he watches the boy thank him with trembling smile and shining eye and smooth young body, it is because Gnaeus is an ass who deserves to be shown his place. The boy means nothing.

It is coincidence, nothing more, that sees the boy tending to Barca most often in the baths, the boy’s shy smiles and admiring eyes (that seem to shine all the brighter when they rest on Barca) ever-present.

Barca does not speak gently to him, barely even acknowledges his presence, but often he sees the boy following him as if a shadow. And if Barca makes it known that none of the men are to touch Pietros in any way, that is not kindness. It is merely that the boy clearly believes himself to be under Barca’s protection, and it costs Barca nothing to grant it.

But Barca is not a kind man.

When he first fucks Pietros, it is rough and bloody. Not Pietros’ blood (Barca may not be _kind_ , but nor is he a rapist. He is not _cruel_ ), but Barca’s and that of the man he killed in the arena. He comes back to the ludus drunk from the blood, the cheers of the crowd, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He feels the need for some kind of release, yet doesn’t know what.

When he walks into his cell to find the boy spread out naked on his pallet, skin shining with oil, eyes already hazy with desire, warm and willing, he realises what he needs.

He takes Pietros’ body, prepares him with gentle fingers (not kindness, Barca merely prefers his partners to enjoy themselves equally) and then claims him with rough, powerful strokes that have the boy scrabbling at his shoulders and back, crying out in pleasure and clenching around Barca as his climax claims him.

The only reason that Barca allows the boy to sleep next to him for the rest of that night is because he is worn out from the fight and the fuck and he cannot be bothered to muster himself to evict the boy.

Besides, the trusting way in which Pietros curls into his side, the warmth that comes from the boy’s flesh, the way his soft hair tickles Barca’s chin, stir an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling in Barca’s chest. He thinks that maybe he should keep the boy around for a while.

But it doesn’t change the fact that Barca is not a kind man.

He does not fuss over Pietros when the boy’s skin burns from being in the sun all day, or when Pietros’ back aches from fetching and carrying, or when he gets in the way of the men practising and is accidentally bruised as a result. If Barca rubs salve on the boy’s sore skin, or rubs the hurting muscles, or deflects blows from Pietros when he can, it is not out of kindness. It is because the only marks on Pietros’ skin should be the ones that Barca gives him. The only burn on his skin should be on the tenderness between his thighs from when Barca has not shaved in a few days, knowing that his boy loves the extra scratch of the stubble when Barca kisses and licks at his ass. The only bruises he bears should be the ones that Barca sucks into his neck and chest; the ones in rings around his nipples where Barca lavishes alternately rough and gentle attention. The marks that show who Pietros truly belongs to.

The first time he makes love to Pietros, it is after the boy comes to him with tears on his cheeks, saying that one of the birds has died. Barca finds some cloth in which to wrap the small body of the pigeon, and together he and Pietros see it over the cliff. Then Barca guides his boy back to the cell, gently kisses his tears away, licks at his lips until granted entry, lies Pietros down on his back and worships every inch of his body until the only thought in his boy’s head is _Barca_.

Afterwards, Pietros lies sprawled on top of Barca, fiddling with one of Barca’s braids that has come loose, and sleepily kissing Barca’s neck. As Barca runs his hands up Pietros’ smooth back, still slick with sweat, he thinks that the choice of giving his heart to this boy may already be out of his hands.

Maybe there is one in this world who is deserving and needful of Barca’s protection. His kindness. His love.

Barca is not a kind man.

He does what his Dominus tells him. He knows that his duties as a bodyguard are more suited to a common thug than a gladiator such as himself, but he knows that it would be futile to protest. So he carries out the tasks set before him; from the menial to the distasteful to the ones that he tries to forget about. He takes the small amounts of money that he earns for this extra duty, and saves, and dreams about a time when he will be free, along with Pietros, and never be at the beck and call of a grasping and cruel master again.

Barca is not a kind man.

There is no privacy in a ludus, and often his brothers walk past and can see clearly as Barca fucks his boy. Some even stay to watch, and Barca allows it although he growls if any eye fixes on Pietros with desire. He even gets a secret thrill knowing that he has what the other men in this place do not. And he knows that he will never let it go. If Pietros ever mentioned it making him uncomfortable, Barca would stop. He would beat any man who stayed to watch, he would blanket his body over Pietros’ and shield his boy from all prying eyes.

But it does not seem to make Pietros uncomfortable. In fact, Barca thinks that his boy makes the most beautiful noises when he is spread out on Barca’s lap, impaled on his cock, whimpering and writhing in need as Barca strokes his chest, plays with his nipples, every shudder and twitch clearly on display for anyone who cares to look. Pietros is gorgeous, and he belongs to and with Barca, and Barca has no compunctions about announcing that fact to the whole fucking ludus.

Barca is not a kind man.

He stands with Spartacus and Crixus and all his brothers on the day they rise up and take the ludus. He massacres all who stand in his path, be they men or women, guards or guests.

(He makes sure that Pietros is safe and hidden away before the killing begins. Both because he cannot risk his boy, and because he does not wish his love to see Barca as the Beast he is named for as he kills.)

When it is done, when they are _free_ , he fetches Pietros from his hiding-place (he suspects his boy did not stay there during the fighting; he saw a young and furious body fling itself upon a guard notorious for brutality and rape, but he chooses not to bring this up. Pietros is stronger than he seems, Barca has learned) and they stand together, looking to the future.

They free the birds, and as Barca watches them spiral joyfully off against the sky, he sees what may be, one day. He sees a life free from fear and blood. He sees himself and Pietros, together, happy, perhaps raising goats or working their own land; doing whatever the fuck they want, whatever that turns out to be. He sees Pietros in his bed every night, every _day_ if he wishes, happy and laughing in his arms, coddled and loved and loving. He sees himself perhaps surrounded by children one day, little ones who need a home and strong, loving fathers.

Barca is not a kind man.

But one day, should circumstances allow, he might be.

**Author's Note:**

> My precious loves must live. I am in denial and here I shall stay. 
> 
> Comments and feedback make me exceedingly happy!


End file.
